


The Eleventh Labour

by the_sock_index



Series: Sock's Rant Meme Fills [5]
Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack, First Meetings, M/M, Too many epithets, Twelve Labours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 08:38:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_sock_index/pseuds/the_sock_index
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "Herakles!John.  Please?  If you fill it and want to throw in Prometheus!Sherlock, I wouldn't object..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Eleventh Labour

**Author's Note:**

> I asked for prompts on the [sherlock_rant](http://sherlock-rant.livejournal.com) meme [here](http://sherlock-rant.livejournal.com/8145.html?thread=66506193).

And so it was that brave Heracles, gold-haired son of shapely-ankled Alcmene, came to the rock upon which clever Prometheus, who had inspired the wrath of wise Zeus by matching him in wit before the other divinities of Olympus, was bound.

Almighty Zeus, angered by sly Prometheus, had cruelly bound the son of Iapetus and Clymene to the rock with inextricable chains and a large shaft driven straight through the middle of the brilliant Titan and set upon him the mild wood pigeon, which cooed nonsense at the son of Iapetus day and night, not allowing the Titan to scheme any witty plans or think clever thoughts.

All were forbidden to approach clever Prometheus by order of wise Zeus, for the Titan was famed for his wits and intelligence, hence his punishment of boredom.

All, that is, until Theban-born Heracles, whom Olympian Zeus allowed near in order that he increase his own glory, by slaying the boring wood pigeon and freeing the son of Iapetus.

It was through Almighty Zeus’ beneficence that valiant Heracles’ arrow flew true, striking the threatening wood pigeon in its breast and breaking the divine chains holding dark-haired Prometheus to his rock.

Intelligent Prometheus, freed from his punishment, offered Heracles his gratitude. “What you did, just then, that was...good.”

Sayeth fair-haired Heracles, “What? Oh, you’re welcome.”

“I see you have come from the East, that you recently visited Illyria, and then consulted The Old Man of the Sea,” clever Prometheus said to mighty Heracles and, upon the demi-god's look of surprise and awe, explained how he had come to know what Heracles would swear that no one save slippery Nereus himself would know.

“You came to this valley from the West,” raven-haired Prometheus said, “and you have sand grains from the coast of Illyria clinging to your fair hair. So much, so obvious. You have burn marks that have yet to heal on your inner arms and scratches from a variety of different animals, all fresh. Yet you’re a demi-god, son of Zeus by the look of you, which means that those marks were inflicted by one of the gods. None are so adept at changing their shape as Old Nereus.”

Brave Heracles, who had slew the Nemean Lion with his very own hands, who had captured and ridden the fearsome Cretan Bull, was astonished by quick-witted Prometheus, a being unlike any he’d yet met. “That’s amazing!” said fair-haired Heracles.

The Titan was astounded by these unexpected words, having never expected to hear such gloried praised from the son of Olympian Zeus, spoke in surprise. “You think so?”

The son of lovely Alcmene swore it was so. “Yes, of course. It was extraordinary.”

Titan Prometheus, known for his brilliant mind, divined Heracles’ task and, feeling generous at the service the mortal had provided him, offered his assistance. “You head West to the Hesperides, to the garden they tend and the hundred-headed dragon which never sleeps.”

Strong Heracles, astounded, indicated the truth of wise Prometheus’s utterance.

The clever Titan told mighty Heracles that he should, instead, seek Atlas, the Titan who bore the world upon his shoulders. “For though he is very strong, he lacks basic intelligence. Have you ever seen his face? It’s enough to put off even a marginally intelligent mortal.”

Prometheus, son of Iapetus, eyed stout Heracles for a long moment, noticing--as many others before have done--the perfection of his form. “It would be the work of a moment for you to convince idiotic Atlas to retrieve the apples for you, for that is your task, is it not?”

Heracles, the Theban-born son of Zeus, answered affirmatively and thanked the clever Titan for his advice and made to continue westward, across the sea and towards the place where the blue-domed Heavens were held apart from vast Gaia.

But quick-thinking Prometheus, before valient Heracles could depart the valley for the West, spoke to him. “Oh, but wise Nereus sent you upon this path for yet another reason, for only a decade ago I told him I must be a difficult god to find a flatmate for.”

And that is how, once glorious Heracles had finished his labour, he sought out the raven-haired Titan with the blessing of his almighty father, the Thundershaker, but that is a story for another time.


End file.
